


Untitled

by Milo1234



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Female Character of Color, Crying, Emotional Manipulation, Fantasy World, I'll add tags as I post more, Lesbian Character, Past Character Death, aand that's about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milo1234/pseuds/Milo1234
Summary: Harper won the war, but she has yet to realize that she didn't come out on top. At least she didn't end up at the bottom of it all, lost and wounded like East and Oakley. Or figuratively lost and wounded like Cerys.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Untitled

Harper’s red curls danced in the icy wind and her cloak billowed behind her as she smiled down at her prisoner. Cerys, once Harper’s powerful rival, now knelt in chains. She was in the same tattered dress that she had been wearing when she was first captured, and the frigid air was merciless against her exposed arms. Her knees ached from her weight on the cold, stone floor of the tower. She glared up at her captor.

“I brought you a jacket,” Harper said, grinning as she held it up. It was blue, and it whipped around in the vicious wind of the tower. 

“I don’t want it,” Cerys said with as much volume as she could muster in her weakened state. 

“Really? But you seem rather chilly.”

“I won’t accept anything from a murderer.” 

“I’m not all bad. You’re still alive, after all.” Harper leaned back against the wall and began fiddling absently with her hair.

“I’m alive right now, but in no time at all you’ll be drinking my blood like wine,” Cerys snarled.

“I wasn’t planning to,” she darted forwards and knelt to Cerys’s level, “but I’m more than happy to if that’s your thing.”

“H—how did you move that fast?” Cerys whispered, breathless. 

“I’ve been practicing.” Harper grinned. 

Cerys collected herself, “You disgust me. Your devilry will never be real, no matter how much blood you drink. And I’ll never let you have mine.”

“Are you sure?” Harper gripped Cerys’s chin, “I hear the blood of  _ pure-hearted _ people like yourself tastes especially good.”

“Mock all you want, but you’ll always be the worst girl between us.”

“Bullshit. You’ve done plenty of killing.”

“I only killed evil people. You can’t say the same.”

_ She’s what I would’ve become if they hadn’t kicked me out. Disgusting, entitled, and completely out of touch with reality. Thank god I got out of there, and thank god I met Shard. To think I used to look up to Cerys, even after I left the School. Probably still would if Shard didn’t give me a moral compass and some self respect.  _

“I’m not all bad,” Is what she said, “I’m here giving you this jacket, after all.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do. You still don’t have a single redeeming quality,” Cerys had to wait for her shivering to calm to continue, “You killed my friends and took away everything that I cared about.” 

Harper’s laugh was sincere. It was funny to her how pathetic her enemy looked, crying for her friends and reveling in her impressive hero complex. “Killing them? Your friends are very much alive. Although I sincerely doubt you’ll get the chance to see them.”

Cerys froze. For a moment, only the sound of her teeth chattering filled the echoey tower, “B—but I thought that’s what the spell did, and if I’m this weak then how did they survive?” 

“I would tell you, but you’re so cute when you’re mad,”  _ She really would be cute, if she wasn’t the King and Queen’s old pawn, and my sworn enemy. _

“You fucking  _ monster _ !” Cerys lunged forwards with a surprising amount of strength, but the chains around her wrists stopped her short. She landed flat on her stomach.

“Did you truly expect me to tell you?” Harper said, stepping forward to lift Cerys’s chin with the toe of her boot, “I mean, it's obvious that you’re naive, but had I known it was to this extent...well, maybe I could have scrapped the complicated plan and defeated you and your allies sooner.” 

Cerys found the strength to jerk her chin away from Harper’s freezing shoe. She caught her breath, then raised her head to speak, “When I get out of here, I’ll find East and Oakley and we’ll kill you.” She meant it.

“Is that so?” Harper prodded Cerys’s temple with her foot, “Because I thought you  _ lost _ your shitty magic. And won’t it take at least a year to get your strength back?”

Cerys couldn’t manage to lift her head so she turned onto her cheek, “I don’t need strength or magic to beat you. I have my friends.” 

“I see. Sadly, it’ll take more than the power of friendship to get them back.”

“They’ll find me.”

Harper let out a mirthless laugh, “No, there’s no coming back from where they are, I’m afraid. And you’re going to freeze to death in a matter of hours. Are you sure you don’t want this?” She dangled the jacket in front of her prisoner’s face.

“Never.” she glared at what she could see of Harper’s foot.

“That’s unfortunate, because I need you alive. How about this: I’ll tell you where your pathetic friends are if you wear the coat.”

Cerys’s eyes widened, “tell me first.”

“Of course! Eastly and Oakton, is it?” 

“East and Oakley.”

“Right. The two of them opened a gateway to the Crithic. I don’t know why they’d rather die there than in a cozy cell here with me, but I guess I’m just that scary.” She grinned.

“They won’t die!” Cerys said in what was practically a plea.

“If you say so.” She produced a key from her pocket, “It doesn’t matter to me whether they’re dead or alive,” she laughed, and knelt to free Cerys’s wrists. “Come to think of it, I never really liked them. Always sticking their noses where they didn’t belong,” Harper put one hand in Cerys’s short, brown hair and the other on the back of her dress. She tried to lift her to her knees but the girl twisted out of her grip. Cerys almost hit her head, but Harper just barely caught her with both forearms under her head and neck. “You never learn, do you?” Harper lifted her to her knees and pulled the jacket over her arms. She buttoned it, fastened Cerys’s chains, stepped back, and gave a mock gasp, “You’re crying! What a surprise! Although you’ve always been a bit sensitive, haven't you? Well, I best be off. Wouldn’t want to hurt your little feelings. See you around!” The door slammed shut and Cerys crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

First of all, the Queen was dead. The Queen, who had been like a mother to Cerys. Who had fiercely protected her from the evil outside of her rooms. So fiercely that some called Cerys a prisoner. She remembered laughing at that notion. A prisoner wasn’t allowed to leave on important missions. Prisoners weren’t allowed to put their lives on the line for the good of the kingdom. And besides, Cerys had plenty of friends in the palace. She didn’t want to venture out to mingle with the greedy nobles or dirty commoners, and certainly not the criminals. In her rooms, she was safe.

And now that she was a real prisoner, she knew that she had been right. Her old rooms had contained several towers of this size, at least six regular rooms, and a garden. They had all been fully furnished. This tower was utterly empty, and she was chained to the wall. It was so cold that her many tears froze on her face. Now that she was here and the queen was dead, Cerys’s only wish was that she’d valued her only mother more.

Cerys mourned the king as any other good citizen would. He’d served Essigoth well. She had only met him once, but it was her duty to remember him in dignity. This wasn’t hard at all, as he’d done almost as much good for the people as his wife had. Of course he didn’t have as big a role in Brouxarth as the queen, but he’d helped orchestrate missions. His cynical and strategic thinking had stopped countless rebel uprisings. Cerys recalled very little from when she met him, but she remembered his eyes. Eyes that pierced your soul and seemed to know everything about you. 

What left Cerys hopeless was the new truth about East and Oakley. They were the only people she had disobeyed the queen for, and her only friends. If Harper didn’t lie—and why would she—they were soon to meet painful ends. The Crithic was a place of legend, and news of its actual existence was recent. Cerys knew that Oakley had been an assistant in the labs trying to find a way to reach it, but she hadn’t known how close they were. 

Of course, it was possible that Harper was lying. Maybe she was strutting the halls of her fortress at this very moment, basking in the knowledge that Cerys was crying and she was the winner. That Cerys was stuck in this freezing, stone tower while Harper roamed freely. Cerys laid down against the wall and tried to sleep, thinking vengeful thoughts.

Harper chucked a bottle at the wall and watched it shatter. 

“How could she?” she yelled at the green chunks of glass, “I’m the one who fucking killed them! I’m the one who did  _ everything!  _ All that fucking  _ hag _ did was sit back and watch.  _ I  _ deserve to rule, she can rot in hell for all I care!” She hurled another bottle at the wall. 

Seeing Cerys as her prisoner had been helpful, and she’d forgotten completely about her anger. At least Shard hadn’t turned her into  _ Cerys,  _ after all. And watching the girl crumble when she heard about her friends had been incredibly satisfying. But as soon as Harper left, she remembered why she’d been mad.  _ She _ deserved to rule!  _ She  _ was the one who did all the work! Harper threw the last bottle, then sprinted off to find her mentor. 

The fortress was set on top of a seaside cliff. The water was freezing, so Harper didn’t find herself swimming much. She liked the beach, though. The sand felt nice on her bare feet, and she loved watching the waves. The one downside of the beach was the long, steep staircase back up to the castle. By the time she got to the top, she was breathing hard, and had cast her heavy cloak out into the wind. She didn’t bother to stop and catch her breath, instead storming straight to Shard’s laboratory, tossing her sweater behind her as she went. This left her cold in just a tank-top, but she knew she wouldn’t be once she reached the Lab. It was the only warm room in the entirety of the weathered, stony fortress. 

Harper didn’t stop running until her hand was on the doorknob of the Lab. She adjusted her stance, straightened her shoulders, and charged in. 

“I demand that you allow me to be queen!” Harper announced, her green eyes blazing.

Shard slowly set down her tools. She was taller than Harper, who was tall herself. As she turned, her long, matted hair swayed. She was always grinning, her teeth pointy and flawlessly white. Her eyes had a wild glint to them, and Harper preferred to stare at her teeth, which were considerably less unnerving. “How old are you, dear?” Her voice was clear and sharp.

“N-nineteen,” Doubt hit Harper like an avalanche. Now that she thought about it, she might have had it wrong all along. But if confronting her mentor had been important to Past Harper, she should try to honor that wish. “W-what I mean to ask is, what will my role be, if not to rule?” 

“Sweet, sweet Harper. You’ve played your part. I have no further need for you. This fortress suits you well, and I want you to stay here.”

“Stay here for how long? I-I want to be a leader!”

“And what qualifications do you have to run a country?” her grin didn’t fade.

Harper flushed. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Of course she shouldn’t play a part in the government, much less be queen. She could read, and she could do simple math, but her real strength was in brute force. “I-I have none.

“That’s right. You’re not clever, confident, or cunning. Your  _ facade _ is all of those things, but don’t get it confused with your  _ real  _ self. I know the real you, Harper.”

“You’re right. Thank you. Sorry for the disturbance.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear. Why don’t you help me pack for the Capital.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to.” 


End file.
